BFF
by elgatoneun
Summary: AU slash. WhitneyClark. What if Whitney and Clark had been best friends? And possibly more?


Title: BFF

Author: elgatoneun

Rating: PG-13 for language, slash

Pairing: Clark/Whitney

Summary: Whitney and Clark are best friends

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, at all.

Spoilers: Season One

Feedback: Always appreciated.

Notes: Written for the Whitney Ficathon. I wrote for Wunderful29. She requested: 1)AU slash (ie totally disregarding canon, or what if Whitney and Clark were best friends in high school?) 2)Some schmoop (Agree with those that Whitney needs a happy ending) 3)Clark/Whitney.

5 ? 4 ? 3 ? 2 ? 1?

Whitney Fordman watched with an amused grin as his best friend fell down at the dainty feet of Lana Lang ? again. He couldn't help enjoying the entertainment value of Clark Kent making a fool of himself for a girl who was too young for him in Whitney's opinion. Freshmen girls were needy and innocent. Clark could have his pick of dozens of older and, more importantly, legal girls. They all fell for that farm boy sweetness and Boy Scout charm.

He strolled over to the school steps and heard the tail end of their conversation. Nietzsche, how pretentious could she get? Clark sat down on the benches awkwardly, looking pale and slightly disoriented. It was a familiar sight whenever he was around Lana. Personally, Whitney didn't think it was a good sign when the object of your affections made you look like you were going to hurl.

"Hey, Clark. Hi, Lana." Lana slowly turned towards him and granted him a pretty smiled filled with pearly teeth. She looked up at him coyly through her eyelashes. The little flirt. He tamped down on his irritation. He was struck with the uncomfortable suspicion that Lana probably liked him. She was always hanging around him, doing these little cheerleader things like baking him cookies and giving him spirit cards with inspirational messages. It was annoying, well, maybe not the cookies, but it made things weird. Even now, she was solely focused on him, Clark totally forgotten.

He didn't understand Clark's fascination with her. She was very pretty, but she was so ? not Clark's type. At least he didn't think so. Lana was so self absorbed, not in a mean way, but she honestly seemed to think that the world revolved around her.

Whitney ignored her, hoping she would go away. He picked up a couple of Clark's fallen books and handed them to him apologetically. He certainly never asked for this little cheerleader groupie, but he felt guilty all the same.

"Sorry, I didn't pick you up, man. I just woke up and barely made it on time." Whitney had been giving Clark a ride to school since he got his beautiful new truck, all the more beautiful because he'd worked his ass off to get it.

"That's okay. I managed." Clark gave him a meaningful lift of his eyebrow accompanied by his trademark grin. Clark was not a master of subtlety.

Lana looked back and forth between them, confused apparently - that made her look even more adorable. Whitney fought the urge to gag.

"Dude, could you do me a favor? I barely finished my English paper for Nielsen. Do you think you could take a look at it? You know, make some editorial suggestions?" Clark gave him an exasperated sigh.

"Sometimes, I think we're just friends so you can use me for my brain," Clark teased.

"Then I guess I really am just a dumb jock, you'd think I would be able to find someone smarter to be friends with." Whitney punched Clark playfully in the shoulder.

"I'm sorry, I thought you were asking for my help, but I must have made a mistake, because I don't think that's how people ask for help. I think begging and attempts at bribery are usually involved."

"I could help you with your paper, Whitney. I'm really good in English." Lana chirped up. Whitney had almost been able to forget her presence.

"That's okay, Lana. I'll do it. Did you e-mail it to me?" Clark saved Lana from Whitney's sharp reply.

"Uh, yeah. I'll see you at lunch, Clark. Bye, Lana." Whitney hustled off towards the back of the school; he'd been late once already this week and couldn't afford a detention.

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Whitney walked into the messy offices of the Torch. There were files and paper everywhere, as if the printer and the file cabinet had just engaged in mortal combat leaving every surface covered in their gory, papery entrails. In the middle of all this, he saw a very harassed looking Clark dealing with a cute little blonde. Whitney remembered her; she had one of those trendy girly names like Candace or Caitlyn. He walked close enough to hear their conversation, but waited politely for them to finish.

"Clark, I'm telling you that there's something strange about this, people don't just wake up from a decade long coma and disappear." She was a very excited little thing and seemed to be humming with energy. Clark crossed his arms over his chest; he looked so much like his dad at the moment that Whitney wanted to take a picture ? one that he could show to Clark to point out and laugh at.

"I said no. Don't you think your theory is a little farfetched? There's not even a hint of evidence beyond one questionable source. We're not about sensationalism here, Chloe." Clark gave her a disapproving look.

"But ?" Whitney worried a bit for Clark's safety. She looked as if she was going to pounce on him. Clark raised his hand and stepped back.

"No. I'm the editor. In the real world that means I have the final say. If you can get me some solid proof, then I'll print the story. Otherwise, I'm going to have to drop it." Clark usually didn't raise his voice and Chloe didn't seem to appreciate that very much.

Whitney decided to step in before it got too late to identify Clark's remains.

"Hey," he said, gaining Clark's attention. Chloe leveled him an evil look, annoyed at the interruption.

"Great! All hail Smallville's finest." Clark reprimanded her with a frown.

"It's nice to see you, too, uh, Chloe." Her eyes widened in surprise.

"I didn't think you'd remember my name," Whitney smiled winningly at her, "you know, considering all the head injuries you must have sustained having 300 pound guys knocking you down all the time." His smile vanished. Clark sighed.

"Chloe, be nice, or I might assign you to cover school events and sports." Chloe scrunched her face up in disgust.

Chloe rightfully turned her venom back onto Clark and not misdirected at innocent bystanders like Whitney.

"Your dorky nice guy act doesn't fool me. You are totally twisted. I can't imagine anything worse than having to follow Lana Lang around all day while she tries to explain the difference between sheer pink and blush pink lip gloss."

"That's for sure," Whitney muttered in agreement. Chloe grinned delightedly, but Clark didn't look amused. Unfortunately, that also brought Chloe's attention back to him.

"You don't like her? Aren't you guys supposed to be attached at the hip? Captain of the football team and the head cheerleader ? isn't that like a rule or something?"

"I've already been there, done that." Chloe looked amusingly shocked. Clark frowned at him slightly.

"What Whitney means is that he dated the head cheerleader last year. They went out for almost two years." Clark's slightly derisive tone indicated his opinion of Whitney's ex-girlfriend.

"Really? So how come she's not head cheerleader this year? Did Lana get rid of the body? Did she get the position through nefarious means?" Chloe was practically salivating at the thought. Whitney and Clark both laughed at the mental picture of innocent Lana Lang doing in Cheryl Anne Connor. Cheryl Anne could take down anyone, those that knew her, feared her.

"My girlfriend, I mean, my ex-girlfriend graduated last year. She's actually the one that picked Lana as head cheerleader this year." That had not gone over well with some of the older girls. Cheryl Anne had really been determined to stick it to Lisa Gosser. Whitney could have told her that Cheryl Anne was not a girl to cross. Most of the older girls had quit and then returned when Lana went to personally ask them back, but not Lisa.

"So why not move on to the new model?"

"Chloe!" She ignored Clark's rebuke. Whitney felt compelled to answer under that direct gaze.

"Well, she's a little young for me." He didn't want to give the most obvious reason, namely his best friend standing not two feet away from him.

Chloe dismissed that flimsy excuse.

Truthfully, Whitney didn't really care for Lana. He didn't like the way she treated Clark, as if he didn't exist or existed solely for her amusement. After all, there wasn't a person in school who didn't know that Clark had a hopeless crush on the girl. Lana had to know and did absolutely nothing to put Clark out of his misery. But then she had always been that way.

"So what's the real reason?" Chloe demanded, her reporter's instincts obviously kicking into high gear.

"I just don't see why everyone has to treat her like she's so special all the time." Whitney glanced accusingly at Clark, he couldn't help it. And it was nice to see that someone might share his opinion of the little princess.

"Back in junior high ?"

"Geez, Whitney, aren't you ever going to get over it?" Clark went back to his desk and started working on his IMac, tired of hearing the same old rant. Chloe leaned against a nearby desk and waited expectantly. Whitney hesitated.

He and Clark had, what he felt at the time, brilliant futures ahead of them as X-treme skateboarders. He thought they would be ready to go into some of the amateur circuits. Clark's enhanced abilities helped him to control the board and do some really awesome, almost gravity defying tricks. Whitney had dreamt of competitions and endorsements. They boarded religiously everyday for almost two years. Whitney knew that he was the weaker of the two but it was the first time that they had been able to do something like that together.

Whitney had always been involved in sports, Little League and Pop Warner games were a part of his life. But Clark had never been allowed. Jonathon Kent always thought that Clark would end up hurting someone. Whitney understood, he had suffered some minor injuries from Clark's exuberance himself. But being with Clark taught him how to be more careful.

Skateboarding had been different. It was safe for Clark, it was a non-contact sport. They really got into it. His dad had let them build a ramp behind the store. Sometimes kids would come by and watch, Lana had been one of them. She had been watching them one day and went up too close to the ramp just as Clark crested the top. Clark almost collided with her. He didn't, but somehow he lost his balance and had ended up crashing into Whitney, knocking both of them down. Whitney broke his arm and had to suffer through Lana's hysterics. His mom had freaked out and had the ramp torn down. The worst was Clark's refusal to participate in any more "harmful activities". Whitney didn't care about himself, but Clark had become sadder, smaller and started isolating himself. Whitney blamed Lana for that, even if it was irrational. But there was something about her that affected Clark and he didn't like it.

He didn't think he could explain that to Chloe without sounding petty and hinting at Clark's secrets. He just shrugged at her and walked over to Clark. He came for help on his paper anyway, not to jog down memory lane.

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Whitney tracked Clark down at the Torch again a week an a half later. He needed Clark's help on another paper, this time for history. They barely had a chance to hang out lately. Whitney knew it was as much his fault as Clark's.

Clark looked up from his desk, he was busy typing.

"Hey, if you came to complain about the article, don't, I've heard it all, in exciting stereo surround sound. The Wackowski twins, Turner, Brent, Hellman, they've all been here." Whitney blinked, he had forgotten about the cheating ring expose that had been printed about some of the guys on the football team yesterday.

"No ?"

Clark smirked.

"Oh, it must be about the paper on Eleanor Roosevelt. By the way, Roosevelt is spelled with two o's."

"That was a typo," he muttered, as a blush stole up his cheeks.

"I thought I was just kidding when I said you were just using me for my brain."

"I'm sorry, it's been killer. But I called you twice last week, after the accident. And you haven't been by the store lately. You've been MIA, buddy."

"I know, it's so busy right now, sorry, I didn't mean it like it sounded."

"Sure, busy hanging out with Lex Luthor and saving Lana Lang from her other stalker, it's like you don't have time for your real friends anymore." Whitney knew he sounded jealous, he couldn't help it, he was.

"Do you want help or not?" Clark pulled up a chair for Whitney and gestured for him to sit down. He guided Whitney's attention to the computer screen.

"I was looking over your paper before Chloe ambushed me with her daily 'Why I should be the editor of this paper and not you' speech and I just wanted to ask," Clark paused to peer at him intently, "were you on crack or something?"

"Dude, that's harsh." Whitney didn't remember half of what he wrote last night, or more truthfully early this morning, but it couldn't have been that bad. Clark gaped at him in disbelief for a moment.

"Could you read this paragraph right here and explain to me what you were trying to say?" Clark pointed to the top of the screen. Whitney read it over twice and groaned.

"Oh my God! I must have been on crack. There's no way I can turn this in."

"Yeah, Chloe came over because she said she'd never heard me use those kinds of words before."

Whitney panicked. "Please don't tell me you let her read this."

"Well, she was right behind me, it was kind of hard not to." Whitney did a face plant into the desk.

"She must think I'm a moron," he mumbled.

"Well, she did call you the king of all jockstraps," Whitney didn't have to see Clark's grin; he could hear the smugness in his voice.

"Can you help me fix it?" He was desperate; he only had one period free until history.

"I think so, but, what happened? This isn't like you. I mean, this paper is really bad, like 'I can't believe a tree had to die for this' bad." Although the words were mocking, Whitney heard genuine concern behind them. He ran his hand through his hair in despair.

"I don't know, Coach has us running all these extra practices and drills, memorizing new plays and stuff. He's like a drill sergeant. I didn't get home until late. I rushed through all my homework and this paper was the last thing I did."

"Hasn't he always been kind of extreme though?" Clark had his own views about Coach Walt.

"He's been different. I don't know, lately, it's been brutal. This year he'll probably get his 200th record win and ever since they built that sauna for him, he's been pounding on us? some of the guys are failing and it's only halfway into the semester. Why do you think that cheating thing came up? Some the guys are really desperate. I'm barely passing as it is."

"Hey, don't worry about it. I've already started going through this, I'm not the editor of the school paper for nothing, you know." Clark gripped Whitney's shoulder and gave him a reassuring squeeze.

"Thanks, Clark." Whitney smiled in appreciation. Clark always had his back.

They sat down and started to work on the mess that was supposed to be his paper. As Clark pointed out more errors and just plain out gibberish, Whitney wondered if he it was too late to pretend that English was his second language.

Clark was typing up the corrections for him at super speed. Whitney always felt a little guilty when Clark used his abilities to help him this way. He looked at Clark's hands. It was really amazing, he always forgot how unique his best friend really was until he came face to face with it. He always felt like a fraud, being lauded as the school hero, when he knew that Clark could beat him in anything. He was stronger and faster than anyone he had ever seen. It was unfair that Clark couldn't be recognized for his talents. In fact ?

"Stop it, Whitney."

"What?" Whitney peered at the computer screen over Clark's shoulder.

"I mean it, quit it." Clark kept his eyes focused on the screen.

"I'm not doing anything," Whitney said, a bit huffy.

"I can see what you're thinking."

"Can you really?" Clark glanced over at him. Whitney wrinkled his forehead.

"Well, no, not literally," Clark sighed. Whitney shrugged.

"Hey, with you, you never know. I mean, that would be really useful. You could read people's minds and stuff."

"I don't think I could take the boredom, if your thoughts are any indication."

"Very funny. So what was I thinking then?"

"You were going to try and get me to play football again." Whitney's smile faltered. Damn, he wondered sometimes if Clark really could read his mind. It wasn't always peaches and cream to have someone who knew you so well. But it worked both ways, Whitney could be persuasive.

"Well, since you brought it up ?"

"No. I'm not doing it." Clark sighed heavily. They had this conversation millions of times before.

"Clark, you're wasting your god-given talents. I mean you can be careful, you haven't had an accident in ?"

Clark cut him off, "I threw Greg Arkin at least 20 feet until he hit a wall. If he had been normal, it would have killed him."

Whitney opened his mouth, but Clark silenced him with his raised hand.

"You've had a sprained finger, a broken arm, a hairline fracture of the wrist, bruised ribs and a dislocated shoulder. They were all because of me, Whitney. I don't think I could handle it if I hurt you, or somebody else, just because I wanted to impress Lana by playing football."

Whitney had nothing to say to that.

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"Whitney, hey, can I ask you something?" Clark strode up to Whitney's locker.

"Sure, what's up?" Whitney pulled out his Chemistry book.

"You know Sean, right? What's up with him? Is he still the same?"

"Why do you want to know, Clark?" Whitney couldn't help the grin, "is there something you want to tell me?" Whitney wagged his eyebrows.

"Shut up, Fordman." Whitney ducked when Clark pretended to cuff him on the head.

"He's been sniffing around Chloe. I think she's his latest target." Whitney nodded.

"I'll ask him about her." Clark smiled gratefully at him. Whitney paused, not sure if he wanted to do this, but Clark was his best friend, he owed it to him. No, no, he wanted this for Clark.

"Hey, um, I heard that Lana's been talking about you. Ever since you've been her knight in shining armor, she's been kind of interested. I think she'd go out with you, if you asked her." Clark looked elated for a moment before his face fell.

"Whitney, you know I can't, the meteor ?" Whitney closed his locker.

"You don't have to worry. She doesn't have the necklace anymore."

"What?"

"She gave it away, for a permanent memorial exhibition at city hall. It's going to be about the history of Smallville and showcase its historic events. The meteor shower is going to be a big part of it and the Langs will be one of the families featured. They wanted to use the necklace and the Time Magazine cover of Lana."

"How do you know this?"

"My dad's on the council, what do you expect?" Clark smiled, dimples showing.

"Did you have anything to do with this?" Whitney shrugged in response.

"Go get her, tiger." Whitney wondered for a moment why he felt a sudden constriction in his chest, but he dismissed it.

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Whitney didn't recall having done anything too terrible in his past. He didn't know why he was being punished this way. Somehow he was in the middle of a conversation between Lana and Chloe extolling the virtue and general hotness factor of Lex Luthor. It was all very wrong and he would have left if he hadn't promised to help with the Red Cross blood drive. He blamed this on Lana. He liked to blame a lot of things on Lana. But this one was definitely her fault; he wouldn't be here if Clark hadn't roped him into it. She was using her new found power as Clark's girlfriend to prod him into doing things he normally didn't, namely being around her, involved in activities with her, etc.

"He's sexy and powerful. He's got those bedroom eyes." Chloe was in raptures. Whitney had always assumed she was intelligent until now.

"I know, he just has this magnetic presence." Lana giggled inanely.

"I hope you're talking about me, because I might get jealous." Clark entered the room with a big smile on his face.

"Oh, Clark," Lana giggled again. Whitney grit his teeth and watched as Lana tilted her face up to Clark. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

"Hey guys, thanks for helping." Clark set his backpack down on the floor with a thud.

"Sure, I just have to leave by six. It's Tee ball sign-ups today."

"We'll be done by then."

Lana assigned them each different priorities along with corresponding binders. Whitney had to admit that she was pretty efficient and well organized. They were done earlier than he expected.

"Hey, do you guys want a ride home?" Whitney finally got his truck back from the shop and wasn't above wanting to show it off.

"Oh, thanks, Whitney, but I'm meeting Nell at the shop." Lana smiled sweetly at him.

"I thought you said you had to go to some speedball thing?" Chloe asked him.

"Tee ball, you know, it's softball for little kids, except that they put the ball on a tee so they can hit it."

"I can't imagine you doing that." Whitney didn't know whether or not to be offended.

"He does it every year and he's really good at it. The kids love him." Clark staunchly defended him.

Chloe raised an eyebrow at Clark's vehemence. Whitney was embarrassed.

"Yeah, what are they, four, five years old? They don't know any better."

Clark snorted. Whitney scowled at him.

"I heard that."

She turned around and winked at him before merrily picking up her bag.

"Good, it would have been wasted if you didn't. Thanks for the offer, but I have my car. I guess it's just you and Clark. I'll see you guys later."

Whitney looked over at Clark.

"Now why do we like her again?"

"Because she's sassy and knocks you on your ass."

"Come on, let's go." Whitney waited for Clark to lock up the Torch office.

They didn't say anything until they reached Whitney's truck.

"She looks good. Otto did a great job on her."

Whitney beamed with pride. She was a beauty. Solid construction, nice lines ?

"Do you two want a moment alone?" Clark asked, all innocence.

"Okay, smart ass, get in the truck." Whitney started driving towards the Kent farm, when Clark indicated a change in direction.

"Oh, yeah, do you mind if we stop by the library? I need to get something for Lana."

"She's got you on a leash already, huh?" Clark shrugged.

"Yeah, I remember, Cheryl Anne made me crazy for a while." Whitney liked to think of that relationship as an exercise of strength and endurance, a test of will and determination that had made him stronger. Otherwise, he would have to beat himself over the head for being so stupid and malleable for so long.

"I didn't think it would be so much work." Clark admitted ruefully.

"So she's got you involved in all her little projects and stuff?"

"No, that's not what it meant. I ?,"

"What do you mean?" Whitney was curious, and not happy about this little glimpse of trouble in paradise, at least that's what he told himself.

Clark shook his head. "Nothing, forget it. What about you? You know, I think Chloe was flirting with you."

"Yeah right, how could you tell? She shoots me down every chance she gets."

"I think that's Chloe's way of flirting. I think she likes you. Do you, uh, like her?" Whitney was surprised to note a slight edge in Clark's tone.

"She's cute." Whitney offered.

"But do you like her?" Clark demanded quietly.

"No, I think I've had my share of bossy blondes. Besides, she kind of scares me."

"Well, I didn't think she'd be your type." Whitney didn't realize how tense Clark had become until he relaxed his posture.

He pulled up to the front of the Smallville library. Whitney remembered the nauseating conversation between Chloe and Lana earlier.

"Yeah, besides, she has a thing for older men, much older, as in, say your other best friend." There might have been the slightest trace of jealousy in his voice. Whitney turned to get out of the truck, when Clark grabbed his arm. Whitney looked back at him questioningly; the serious intent in Clark's gaze sent a little shiver through him.

"This might sound a little messed up but ? I may be Lex's best friend but he's not my best friend. You're my best friend, Whitney, only you." Clark's tone was low and intimate. Whitney saw truth in the smoky blue eyes. Whitney smiled.

"Thanks, Clark. I think I needed that."

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The disinfected sterilizing smell of the hospital always brought back memories of Whitney's childhood. He had been well-known in the emergency room as an accident prone kid.

Clark was in the waiting room, abject and miserable. Whitney went and sat down next to him. He put his arm around Clark gently, offering support, comfort, whatever Clark needed.

"How is she doing?" Clark started; apparently he hadn't even noticed Whitney until he spoke. Clark leaned into Whitney a little.

"They said she's going to be okay. She has a concussion and a broken arm. I should have saved her, Whitney. I couldn't save her." Clark's bleak devastation and his assumption of blame was almost heartbreaking.

"You did everything you could. It's not your fault. Don't do this to yourself." Whitney said as fiercely as he could, willing Clark to believe him.

Lex Luthor walked into the room. He looked surprised to see him ? them ? together. Whitney realized how it might look, his arm around Clark, their heads close together, but he didn't care. He looked up at Luthor, almost daring him to comment.

"Clark, Whitney, the doctors say that she most likely won't wake up until morning. There's nothing that you can do, you should go home." Clark shook his head.

"No, I'm going to stay here. I owe it to her to be here when she wakes up. I couldn't help her, but I'm damn well going to be here when she wakes up."

Lex appealed mutely to Whitney for help. Whitney knew better than to try and persuade Clark out of this.

"It's okay, I'll stay with him. I'll call his parents and make sure he gets some sleep." Lex Luthor nodded at him. He looked at them again, huddled closely together, almost as if they could absorb one another, but he didn't say anything.

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Whitney was both excited and relieved to see Clark come into the store the next afternoon. He hustled Clark over to the counter.

"I found them." Clark frowned, not understanding Whitney's news.

"I saw the guys, two of them anyway, one had a tattoo just like the one Chloe described this morning."

Clark smiled slowly as the news sunk in. Whitney's breath caught for a moment.

Clark had described all the things he could remember about the robbery and attack on Chloe the night before and they hadn't been able to come up with anything. This seemed almost too good to be true.

"I'm going to a party at their place tonight. I can find out more about them." Clark immediately clutched his shoulders.

"No way. We're going to the police right now." Whitney didn't try to shake him off.

"Clark, you told me that you had no idea how they got in and that the police didn't have a clue in all these months of break ins. And ?" Whitney faltered a bit, "they held you down, Clark, you can't just go in and get them, we have to find out a little more about them." Clark was dismayed by this logic.

"Fine, I'll go with you."

"You can't, Clark. They'll recognize you. It will be okay. I'm just going to ask a couple of questions, just enough information so we can get them. Trust me, Clark."

"No, it's too dangerous, I don't want you near them. You said it yourself, if they can neutralize me, then there's no telling what they could do to you, I don't want ?," Whitney felt Clark tremble, "they hurt Chloe, I don't want them to hurt you, too."

"Clark, don't worry, I'll be fine." Whitney hoped Clark didn't hear the slight shakiness in his voice.

"You just go check up on Chloe, make sure she's not terrorizing the hospital staff." Whitney tried for a light note.

"Lana's with her right now." Whitney winced in sympathy. Things had been awkward between Clark and Lana since the break up. Whitney wasn't proud of it, but he had enjoyed getting to spend more time with Clark now that Lana was out of the picture. But Clark was handling it okay. He only had minor bouts of depression since the girl of his dreams had dumped him.

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Whitney felt feverish and shudders racked his body. He couldn't believe what a rush it was. He felt the dull throbbing in his arm. Well, now he knew how this gang could literally walk through walls. He picked up his phone and dialed Clark's number. He didn't pick up. He decided to leave a message anyway. He didn't know how long they were going to be gone. Clark needed to know right away if they were going to be able to save Lex Luthor.

"Clark, I know how they are doing it. They're using the meteor rocks. They processed it to some kind of liquid that they're using as ?" Whitney's phone was knocked out of his hand. He looked up and saw Wade grinning maniacally at him.

"So the rookie doesn't want to play anymore? Well, that's too bad." Oh shit.

"Look what we found, bro." Scott walked in dragging Clark beside him. He had him in a choke hold.

"So what was this, some kind of sting operation? You boys like playing junior detective?" Wade injected himself with the ink in front of Clark's horrified eyes. He reached into Clark's chest, Whitney saw Clark jerk in reaction, face contorted in pain. He lunged in Wade's direction and only succeeded in passing through him and toppling into Clark. At least Wade had let go.

Whitney wished that he had never gotten them into this mess. He should have listened to Clark. He understood now, that horrible feeling when you realized someone you loved was going to get hurt because of your actions.

"Clark, I'm so sorry, I wish ?,"

Stars burst into his vision as incredible pain filled his head.

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Whitney walked up the stairway of the barn. He stopped when he saw Clark's silhouette against the sunset. He was looking out over the Kent farm. He must have made some kind of noise, since Clark turned around so quickly. He stepped over to Whitney and lifted him into a hug. Whitney was relieved, a small part of him thought Clark would be upset with him for screwing up things up so badly. As it was, Wade was dead and although it had been self defense, Whitney knew Clark felt guilty about his death.

It had only been two days ago, but Whitney hadn't been able to see Clark until now. They stood there in silence for a moment, just drinking each other in. Whitney knew he couldn't hide the truth any longer. He just didn't know how Clark would feel about it when he told him. He didn't know if it was worth the risk.

"Hey, how are you doing?" Clark asked gently, almost shy.

"I'm okay ? and you?"

"I'm fine." There was a pause.

"Clark, ?"

"Whitney, ?"

They both spoke at the same time.

"You go ahead." Clark was always the polite one.

"Clark, you know how we've been friends for such a long time?" Whitney looked to Clark for confirmation like an idiot. Clark nodded at him reassuringly. Whitney had never been so scared in his whole life.

"Well, sometimes, things change, and that can be a good thing. People grow closer ? or apart," Whitney paused, he was such a coward. He wasn't good with words, at expressing his feelings. Damn.

"Sometimes relationships ?," Whitney raked his fingers through his hair nervously and stopped when he thought he heard the impossible.

"What did you say?" Whitney realized his hand was still on his head and brought it down to his side, smacking himself accidentally. He muffled a curse and looked at Clark, willing him to say those impossible words again, a small joy blossoming through his insides.

"I love you." Clark said it so solemnly. Too solemnly. Not like an earth shattering revelation, but a quiet stated fact. Whitney's breath left him.

He swallowed thickly, trying to crush the surge of disappointment that followed, realizing that Clark couldn't possibly have meant it in that way. He chuckled weakly, throat dry.

"I, uh, love you, too, man. We're buds, best friends forever, right?" Everything inside him wanted to cry at the unfairness of it, the torture of being in love with your best friend and knowing that he didn't love you back in the same way. His anguish must have shown.

Clark looked momentarily taken aback, then he stepped forward until he was almost nose to nose with Whitney. Clark took a deep breath and looked resolutely at him, those slate blue eyes locking with his own.

"No, Whitney, I mean I love you." Clark paused again as if steeling himself for this confession. Whitney was too thunderstruck to say anything.

"You've been my best friend my entire life, I can't imagine it without you. You're a part of every happy memory I've ever had."

"Clark ?,"

"No, let me finish. Lana and I, we had a lot of fights. She was always upset because she knew I was keeping something from her. I wanted to tell her, but something kept holding me back. And I kept wishing that I had someone that I could totally trust, that I could share everything with and then I realized I did. I had you." Clark's soul searching gaze was too much and Whitney closed his eyes briefly, wondering how he could go from elated to shattered so quickly.

"Clark, don't, I know you're lonely. Just because you told me doesn't mean you love me." Whitney tried to move away, but Clark held him.

"I don't love you because I told you. I told you because I love you. I think I've always known that. When I saw you with Wade, I never felt so helpless in my life. You're everything to me and I was afraid that I was going to lose you. I wanted to kill him. I don't know, maybe I did." Clark looked down, ashamed.

Whitney brought his hand up to Clark's face. He lifted Clark's chin wanting to see Clark's eyes focused on him again.

"Clark, don't. You're not responsible for everything in the whole world. And I ? I love you, too."

Clark leaned forward and Whitney met him halfway. Their lips touched tentatively at first, then their mouths melded together. It was fierce and passionate. It was like nothing he had ever imagined and like everything he had always wanted.

It ended too soon. Their foreheads rested against each other, noses touching as they both panted, raggedly drawing in large gulps of air.

"So ? we're good?" A whispered question.

"Yeah, we're good."


End file.
